She Who Acts
by Oinn
Summary: Chromosome 24 was not bioengineered from scratch. It was copied from the genetic profile of a pre-existing race; a species which swore never to interact with humans again. Now, with portents of the Doom repeating its horrible history, one among that race must aid the humans destined to face the demons of their past. Reaper/OC. Rating for future violence, gore, and adult themes.
1. A Breeze of Portents

**36 B.C., The Coast of What Will be North California**

A soft breeze curled through the ancient conifers that afternoon and it shifted the leaves on the trees in a gentle rustle as it went; the leaves, in turn, whispered in their secretive tongue as their edges scratched along each other and the twigs, the branches, and the rough bark of the canopy above. Their subtle fluttering allowed the sun to come down though their green masses in small brief wavering spots of gold and bronze on the dappled forest floor, and it reminded the girl of how the surface of the lake would reflect the sunlight back up to the sky in patterns similar to, though not entirely the same as, musical notes.

She chased the dappled spots with deft tapered fingers and pricked one on a pine cone. Chuckling softly she picked it up and set it aside, where she had already collected a small pile of them and turned her attention back to the spots of colored light. They blinked back at her cheerily and again the girl thought of music.

Music, from instrument and song both, was not a new thing to her, nor were the waters, the forest, or the sun's rays shining down. The Elders and her father had taught her well in those regards despite her tender years. _They had taught her everything that they deemed she needed to learn, but hardly anything that she wanted to know_, the girl mused as she lay in a small hollow at the fork of one of the gloriously huge conifers; but what they had not taught she and her brother had learned on their own, exploring the lands around their small home.

Her seat was the the mulch of seasons worth of fallen needles, pine cones, and the debris cast off from the smaller shrubs; lichen and moss cushioned her rump in a padding of humus that made not only for a comfortable resting place, but also a fragrant one. She hadn't yet received the training to attune her nose to be able to identify the delicate array of scents surrounding her, but she knew some of them from previous experience. Juniper berries and the sweet soil mixed with the subtly disturbing aromatics that accompanied decomposition and the wetness of dew that never fully dried during the day as it lay hidden deep down in the layers of nature's compost.

She sniffed as the breeze passed through the trees and over her body and she frowned at what it foretold. The soft breeze was chill, and it send delightful shivers up and down her spine as it played with her hair, but the scents...they confounded her as she raised her face up to the canopy and the brief flashes of blue sky.

Beside the girl, her brother paused in his pursuit of a grumbling old fox, his face raised to the wind as well. His silver eyes widened slightly just as her eyes did, his corona of long fine hair swirling gently in time with hers. The twins shared a moment of stillness then, frozen in contemplation tinged a terrible sense of dread. For a second the whisper of the leaves sounded as loudly in their ears as the most tumultuous summer thunderstorm. The grumpy fox took this as his moment to escape the boy's relentless questioning and hid his gray-furred body in nearby hollow.

Across from them their father, still and tall beneath a redwood tree, watched this all with a dawning sense of sadness. This was the sadness of a parent who was helplessly witnessing the changes as their children grow up in the most disheartening way imagined; the beginnings of a maturity that a father could only pray would not happen so soon, if only to preserve the beautiful innocence of his children.

They could smell the changes approaching just as he could. He just hoped that that was the full extent of it.

He took a deep breath in and let it out in a long sad sigh.

"Irian-yel," he called softly, _My children._

As if they were one being they turned their silver eyes towards him, but it was very clear that their thoughts were on the scents in their nostrils. The absent, if obedient, gazes disturbed him slightly. He spoke to break the trance, his speech lilting, the tongue ancient but familiar.

"Tell me what it is you sense."

Bouron answered first, chewing his bottom lip thoughtfully. "I can smell .. dirt, the hummus. The fox is down-wind from us. A bear, but he is far away. Miles, even."

Ravanna nodded her head as her twin spoke to their father, more to distract herself from the sound of his voice breaking her concentration than in agreement, but she knew he was right. But not entirely. She could sense something on the wind, but it wasn't a scent in the strictest sense. It was something more than that.

Bouron hesitated, a small frown between his brows. "There's something. . . something else there too but I am not familiar with it." He shook his pale head, sending silky strands of white hair flying in many directions. He couldn't tell what it was that plagued his senses.

Their father nodded, and some tension went out of him. Perhaps he had surmised wrong, perhaps there were a few years left after all before he had to loose his precious younglings, if at all. Bouron could sense there was something wrong, but not what. His son was safe, for now.

"Its salt. And heat." Ravanna said, dashing some of her father's hopes. She looked up towards the sky as she continued. "Its... copper and blood. But it is not here... not yet. It will be though." Her statement was met with an incredulous look from her brother and a sad nod from her father. The strangeness passed away then, as quickly as it had come leaving the three still and anxious beneath the trees; she couldn't help but shiver slightly, though she was not affected by the chillness in the air. The breeze had stopped blowing as well.

From out of the now still trees a figure came up beside their father; a Taylini woman, exceedingly fair and willowy in form, her long hair armed against the catching fingers of the branches and twigs by being twisted into a sturdy plait over her shoulder. The gray shift she wore barely made a whisper as she passed over the needles and the cones, the deep hummus cushioning the fall of her feet. Even if the ground had been cast from concrete, like the Romans were using in most of their architecture halfway across the world, and the woman had been shod in hobnailed boots, her tread would still have made no sound.

Her pupil-less lavender eyes examined the two children as she rested a delicate hand on their father's shoulder, as if in commiseration, but with a lover's gentleness. In response to her touch his shoulders sagged slightly, and he reached across his chest to place his hand over hers and squeeze it. His action seemed to be full of regret. Then he lifted her hand to his lips and kissed the palm, and even his regret could not stop him his lips from curling into a small smile of contentment for being near her. Thus was the way of the love-bonded.

She was Aurmora, the Mallay'nis of the western lands; She Who Watches, the most senior and feared of the Taylini Elders, a wielder of powers unfathomable to most thinking beings. She was certainly not a human woman.

She was the twin's mother.

Aurmora's lovely face was serene, her posture relaxed, but her eyes bore down on her daughter with the hardness of lavender-colored diamonds. The girl didn't squirm, though she wanted to; instead she raised her face and met her mother's gaze. The hard pupil-less gaze bored into her for a time and Ravanna did her best not to shift uneasily under it.

"Benaurin, did I hear correctly?" her voice was as soft as the velvet on the antlers of caribou, as sinuous as a snake, as rich as a cream confection. There were hidden things in her voice, meanings secretive and darkly frightening; it pulsed with power, with unknown things, as did her eyes. It had always been so, ever since she had reached adulthood. A Mallay'nis was cursed from her first breath with the power, though one would often become aware of it pulsing within her when puberty hit. With the twin's mother it had filled her since she could walk.

Aurmora turned her gaze from Ravanna to her husband, Benaurin.

Ravanna was not afraid of her mother, just wary, as any child would be while under the scrutiny of a Mallay'nis. She looked up at the tall woman and dipped her head in respect, unsure if Aurmora had asked that question as her mother, or as an Elder. After all, the judgment of a Mallay'nis was not the judgment of a mother. It was often far more cruel.

Bouron watched with wide silver eyes, barely breathing, at this exchange. Ravanna could hear the unspoken question in his mind, for it was also in her mind; they had always been close, not only because they had shared the womb. They often knew what the other was thinking.

It was a few long moments before their father answered, and he looked west, towards the sea, not a few miles away. "Indeed, my heart. She has caught the right of it, as you well know."

She felt compelled to speak, so Ravanna looked up and opened her mouth before her brain had thought to caution her against it. Questioning an Elder without being given leave to was a dangerous thing, even if that Elder was family. "What _was_ it?"

Three sets of eyes snapped back towards her, but she didn't lower her gaze again. Her father opened his mouth to speak, then hesitated and fell silent. Bouran made no noise save for swallowing. Their mother was silent for a time as she turned her eyes from her family and looked about them to the tall trees surrounding them; she was still as the bedrock deep beneath the dirt they stood on.

Ravanna was born a Taylini, as both her parents were. She had lived a long time already, nearly four hundred years, and still she was one of the youngest in comparison to the rest of her people, younger even to her brother by two minutes during their birthing. Her enduring white skin and hair marked her for what she was, more than human, her silver eyes a sure sign of her youth. But ingrained deeply into the marrow of her, that hard core where existed nothing but her mother's daughter, was a patience that could span ages.

She waited for her mother's response, following the lavender gaze towards the west, where the ocean swelled in the tide pools, allowing passage out to the deeper ocean for the creatures that had been trapped in the pools when the tide had dipped. The sunlight was softening, fading as it dipped further down behind the hills. In the distance was the faintest hint of a seagull's cry.

Ravanna could appreciate this beauty.

It was not long after the dusk had brought out the shrill leg-rubbing chirps of crickets that Aurmora turned from the unseen tide and looked back at her daughter. Her features were marked by strain but it was difficult to see; if it was anyone other than her mate and children witnessing her expression ti would have undoubtedly gone unnoticed.

She stepped forward silently and looked down on the child, who was barely five foot in height. Her voice was soft, as filled with sadness as Benaurim's sigh had been, and it crawled deep into Ravanna's skull and seemed to curl itself down to wrap around her heart and squeeze that organ with a terrifying firmness. "It is the Doom, my little heart. It is the Doom, and it is coming again."

* * *

**A/N **While I adore Karl Urban and his dark New Zealander good looks, I must admit I do not own him (*cries*), nor do I own any rights to the _Doom_ movie, games, or books. Ravanna, the current plot (and subsequent plot twists later on not including those that occur during the _Doom _movie) and points of history are completely mine, however, as are the Taylini race and characters. Play nice with them if you wish, but ask my permission before you do. Please bear in mind that it may be a few chapters before you come in contact with our favorite John "Reaper" Grimm and his motley crew of Marine misfits (+1 of my own design). Feel free to review.


	2. A Summon to the Gate

**568 BC, Close to the Area which will become known as Area 51, Nevada**

Ravanna gave up her name the day the Eldren convened.

* * *

The strange breeze that had blown in from the ocean had swept far over the continents; it had thrilled in the hearts and in the nostrils of all the Taylini who remained in this green-filled land, but not as much as it had in the Mallay'neem. The Women Who Watched all knew, to a soul, what was coming; some had visions of the Doom, and knew in their minds eye the faces of the warriors who would one day fight against that awesome evil. Some had felt the teeth of the beasts at their throats, and many of those indomitable women knew fear. Still others, like Ravanna and her mother, had sensed it, almost like a scent born on ill winds, the scent of fire and blood and a deep malicious infection, insurmountable in its malignancy.

Usually such portents would have been lost on a child such as Ravanna had been, but these were world-shaking times. Soul-shaking times. Within two thousand years, such a short period of time to those long lived beings, the Doom would swallow whole the world unless the Taylini could prevent it; and they dared not rely on the humans. Already wars were being mounted about the world; their lesser kin seemed determined to wipe each other out with fire and sword and acts of cruelty.

Despite being an inferior race, filled with sickness and cursed with short lives and a deafness to the world they inhabited, the humans too had felt the breath of the Doom upon them, if not as potently as the Taylini had. It had inspired in them such darkness that the Taylini wept for shame. Even the most goodly of the humans was bound to succumb to the machinations of evil, they believed, and as long as the darkness lay deep in the hearts of the humans, the Taylini would have to take charge of the saving of the world.

It had taken years of whispering to the winds, feeling the waters, and gazing into the fires before all of the Mallay'neem had contacted each other. It had started with Aurmora that sunny afternoon as she had stared out towards the horizon before answering her daughter, lavender eyes gazing towards the sea. She had sent the call on the winds to her sisters, to the west. She had hoped that, in sending it against the tide of the dawn that perhaps it may change the portent, but in the turning of the seasons her hopes of that had faded.

On the same day each year the Taylini stood, overcome with a feeling of dread, gazing towards the west with their faces buffeted by the breeze that never failed to blow. Even Bouron could feel it weighing down on him, could scent the blood and putrescence in the air. On those days his silver eyes would cloud to gray, the color they would eventually turn to once he matured into an adult, and his hands would clench on whatever he would be holding at the time. It took all of his will not to be sickened by the caress of the portent of evil.

For his sister it was much worse than what he experienced, far worse than the first time she had raised her face to the breeze. Every child of a Mallay'nis stood a greater chance of becoming an Elder, if a male, and a Mallay'nis, if female, than did the children of all other Taylini. Benaurin had not been an Elder, nor had he been born for greatness other than loving and protecting his family; but Aurmora was the strongest of the Mallay'neem collectively, and their people had waited long centuries to see which of he children would be cursed with the power.

That fateful afternoon, years ago, had marked Ravanna's first day as a Mallay'nirin, one who would one day become a Mallay'nis; her breaths the first she had taken as she had inherited the powers of her mother, and her father had sighed in relief that he had not lost Bouron to it as well.

The successive years she lived as a Mallay'nirin only brought more and more intense portents.

On the annual day when the Taylini froze in dread, Ravanna would stand with her mother in the woods by their home, gazing towards the sea. She did not have visions of the future as some did, nor any sensation of pain or infection spreading through the world, but each vigil that she stood would end with her heart feeling as if it had been torn from her chest, broken with such a grief as she had not thought possible, and she would near collapse with sorrow. But her knees never bent, and she stood as still as stone next to the formidable Aurmora. She didn't share her experiences with her mother, nor her mother with her; each experienced a personal hell, intimate to the individual woman, and both knew it. No words needed to be spoken.

In the earlier years Bouron would ask her, later, when they lay down to sleep in their comfortable rush bed the twins still shared, what she sensed. But she would never speak of it to him, who she had once shared everything that was in her mind. Not long after Bouron sought his own bed of rushes, and the twins lost their bond they had shared since birth, that closeness of mind and spirit that bound them together. Although it hurt Ravanna, she was still glad of it. The Taylini did not age as humans did; they could remain as children for centuries until they consciously decided to begin maturing into adults. It was time for Bouron to start growing up, just as she was. The time for being children was waning.

She could sense the other Taylini children around the world slowly coming to the same conclusion; it would take nearly a thousand years for them to reach their physical and mental maturity, to become adults, barely enough time before the Doom would descend upon them. A Taylini could figuratively live forever, unless they were slain, which was very hard to do; but they aged with a bitter slowness that often led them to envy of humans. So it was with heavy hearts that the eternal children gave up their innocence so that they might become soldiers against the Doom.

It made her want to weep. But she was a Mallay'nirin now, she couldn't afford to.

* * *

The years passed, and each of them ended with the breeze of portents, like the great tolling of a death knell bell to herald the coming dark times. Ravanna slowly grew in inches, her eyes darkening slightly at first, then to a greater extent as time dragged on, till they had taken on a stormy gray hue, and beneath their surface would slowly pulse her power. She was perhaps the weakest of the Mallay'neem, but she was Aurmora's daughter, and far more powerful than any mere mortal.

She was physically the equivalent of a human teenager when the council of the Eldren had been called. Over six hundred years had passed since the first portent and now that every soul of the Taylini had begun preparation to confront the dark tide ahead, the Mallay'neem and their male counterparts were ready to come together for a sharing of news, tactics, and the forming of what plan of action to take against the dark. Benaurin and Bouron stayed behind to guard their coastal forest home and Aurmora and Ravanna walked many months to the east, over mountain and through valley to reach the site that the Mallay'neem had agreed upon.

* * *

It was a plateau, windswept and dry but covered with tough grasses; it was a beauty to look upon in the light of day, a panorama painted with the colors of the sun; but in the chill of the night air is when Aurmora and Ravanna found that place, where the Desert Gate rested, deep below the earth.

"_Redana lienae-ya_," greeted the first of the Mallay'neem as the pair approached their hearthfire; _Welcome my friends. _Aurmora smiled with great grace and despite her worn traveling clothes and the tiredness that weighed heavily on her, she bowed to the woman deeply, and shakily Ravanna followed suit. Aurmora may be the most powerful of the Mallay'neem, but Ystande was the eldest of their kind; she was one of the last of the Taylini souls to have passed from the red planet through the Gate almost thirty thousand years ago to escape the last Doom.

This Mallay'nis was ancient, but physically untouched by age, save the depth and power in her pupil-less sapphire eyes and the unnerving richness in her voice. Ravanna did not flinch as the voice flowed over her, nor as the eyes looked deep within her own; but it was difficult. Instead she inclined her head to Ystande in respect and greeting. Aurmora replied then, "_Redana lien_."

The old Mallay'nis looked over Ravanna then, inspecting the child that had now almost grown into a woman. "Ah so, this is Aurmora's daughter," she mused, looking at her intently, for what, Ravanna could not tell, but she stoically bore the the diamond-hard gaze.

"We shall have to hope," the woman finally muttered before turning to the four other women and the two men at the fire. Ystande strode away, Aurmora following close behind.

Swallowing the lump that had accumulated in her throat, Ravanna followed at a distance. She couldn't help but notice that she was the only Mallay'nirin here; there was no presence of her other sisteren anywhere, only fully recognized Mallay'nis and the Elders.

Greetings were shared between the eight Eldren as Ravanna stood to the side; one by one their gazes came to rest upon her as the night drew on. She greeted each in turn, impeccably polite and mannersome. She knew each of their names and faces since the time she was a child; the Taylini were not a numerous race, and they bred but rarely. Each child was greeted into the world by the Eldren and Ravanna and her twin brother had been like every other.

Maurimosa, Ystande, Ullylipsia, Fyare, and Gerensy. Hauladin and Nikolist. The Mallay'neem and the Elders. And Aurmora, the strongest of them all. Here were the Eldren, the power of the Taylini race, who could not die unless slain, who did not age unless willing, who were untouchable by disease and illnesses of all sorts, and who were naturally the strongest, fastest, and most intelligent of all beings in this world. Humans had named them gods in ages past, worshiped them, indeed they might still in this present night; to them the humans had dedicated so much devotion, for them the humans had built cities, temples, pyramids. To them the humans had sacrificed livestock, plants, incense and, sometimes, their own children. To the Taylini they called out in agonies, hoping for their prayers to be answered. And yet the Taylini would still not appear before them.

They had made that mistake once, and an entire world had died, choked in red dust. In Doom.


End file.
